Darkness, My Friend
by Believer29
Summary: "It's forever, dearie." Belle made a deal with a beast long ago, and decades of torture and imprisonment wouldn't change it. No matter how much she had changed, inside and out. A darker tale of Belle's incarceration, her loyalty to Rumplestiltskin, and the repercussions of magic on a broken soul. RumxBelle. Better summary inside. Starts end of Season 1 through events of Season 2.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Once Upon a Time, or any of its stories or characters.

 **** I NEED A BETA READER IF ANYONE IS INTERESTED ** Any editing issues I have is because I don't currently have a Beta, so if you're willing to be my wingman, please send me a message and hop on this crazy train ride with me, we'll have so much fun together.**

 **Rating** : Most of story is T-rated, with supernatural themes, romance, violence (mild torture) and touches issues such as mental illness, substance abuse, physical trauma, etc. Darker than the television show depicted but nothing very grisly. Some chapters are M for sexual content only.

 **Summary** : Belle made a deal with a beast long ago, and decades of torture and imprisonment wouldn't change it. No matter how much she had changed, inside and out. A darker tale of Belle's incarceration, her loyalty to Rumplestiltskin, and the repercussions of magic on a broken soul. Starts Season 1 Finale, and goes through events of Season 2 a little differently.

 **Author's Note:** Something about Belle's imprisonment/incarceration bothered me. Her recovery was unrealistically quick and she seemed very without lasting trauma from the experience. I think in reality, given the Queen had a strong penchant for violence and a pleasure in causing pain, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to think she would have made Belle's life in prison a living hell. And twenty eight years of being locked in an asylum in the basement would have had devastating effects. But that's what fanfiction is about, messing around with the characters you love because you're only limited to 22 episodes a year, and what the HELL are we supposed to do while we wait?

* * *

Darkness, My Friend.

 _PROLOGUE_

I first saw him when she started torturing me.

He was nothing more than an image, a vision that emerged from my broken mind. He would regard me with a concerned expression, whilst the Evil Queen stood back and watched, with a sickly smirk upon her painted lips – as her faithful servants stripped the clothes from my back and dealt lashing after lashing.

I tried calling to him. "Rumple-stiltskin!"

"He can't hear you, dear," she would coo at me like I was a crying child. "He thinks you're dead, and I've sealed this place with magic. He's not coming for you. Nobody is coming for you," and then that smile again.

I thought he did come for me, in the days that followed. I thought I could feel his hands with a cloth, cleaning my wounds, as I slipped in and out of consciousness. But when I woke up, I found the bloody rag in my own hands.

The second time I saw him was when the Evil Queen had me strung up in the centre of her torture chamber, and was conjuring fire with her fingertips, and using it to scald the surface of my skin. My arms, my legs, even one on my face. He stood there, unseen by anyone but me, his mask of indifference, but concerned eyes.

Except this time, he spoke to me. _"Ask her what she wants from you,"_ he came close and hissed into my ear.

"What do you want from me?" I cried, despairing wail.

"I want to know Rumplestiltskin's weaknesses. You spent more time with him than anyone, in his Castle."

I was confused. I waited too long to answer, and she started with the flames again. I screamed.

" _Tell her what you know,"_ Rumplestiltskin breathed. He was behind me and I could feel his fingertips dancing across the nape of my neck.

"I don't… know… anything." I could barely get the words out.

" _Tell her something dearie,"_ he instructed, _"or we'll be here all night."_

The Queen stood away from me. There was a table in the corner of the room, with a pitcher of water and a goblet. "Gosh, you know, this is thirsty work," she grinned and took some water.

" _Ask for water."_

"Is that water?" I rasped.

"Why, yes, yes it is," and that smile again, as she approached me with her goblet. "Would you like some?"

"Please," I begged.

She became livid, splashing the water at my feet before throwing the goblet against the wall as she began to pace the room, "then tell me what your master's weaknesses are!"

" _Tell her."_

"I don't know anything," I whispered when she wasn't looking, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.

" _Then make something up."_

"Like what?"

" _All those nonsense-filled books you read and you can't make something up?"_

"Me!" I cried out.

" _You're not very bright, are you?"_

The Queen was sneering then. "You?"

I was in too much pain for coherent thought. I tried to explain to her that he did care for me. I convinced him to spare the life of a thief. And that he told me he had a family once, a long time ago. That he once traded my life for a magical gauntlet.

Rumplestiltskin stared at me with confusion all over his face, and I could tell this was _not_ what he was hoping I would say, when he instructed me to make something up. I think he wanted me to give the Evil Queen an answer, any answer, even if it was a lie.

The Evil Queen wasn't happy with my response. I whimpered as she conjured a huge flame-ball in her palm, then searing pain, the smell of burnt flesh and then darkness.

* * *

When I woke up, he was there, with a damp cloth, a pale of water, cleaning my wounds.

"You're not really here," I hissed in pain.

" _Clever girl,"_ he mocked, and tied a length of cloth around a particularly nasty burn above my left knee.

"Is this magic? Are you using magic to speak with me, to be here?"

" _I'm not here, that much was already clear to you."_

"Then you're not Rumplestiltskin."

" _Not really, dearie. Just whatever twisted fantasy came from your broken mind."_

"Broken heart, more like," I gave him a small smile. "Will you stay with me?"

" _Of course,"_ he grinned, and with a flourish of his hands, " _I'm here when you need me. Just remember dearie, you're the only one who can see me, and I'm not really here. It's just you."_

Then he was gone.

* * *

The Evil Queen kept me locked up for months, years, perhaps. I couldn't be sure, I kept scratching tally marks on the stone, but I discovered during one of the Evil Queen's meetings with me, that the guards would come into my cell and change the number. Still, I kept tally. It was important to me, somehow, even though counting had lost its original purpose.

Rumple was the figment of my imagination that kept me alive. He would tell me what to say, when to say it. He would teach me to channel the pain by occupying my mind with other pleasant thoughts. He would touch me, sooth me, and I could feel it, even if he wasn't real.

The real Rumplestiltskin thought I was long dead. He wasn't coming for me.

Then one day, one bright day like any other, The Evil Queen's curse had arrived. A monstrous, descending storm cloud that choked the entire land. It hit the Queen's palace first. I was in the highest tower, and I could see the horror coming towards me and powerless to stop it.

"Rumplestiltskin," I cried, and he was there. Just like he always was. There, but not really there. My dark angel, which only I could see.

He took my face in his hands, and brushed my tears away. _"Hush now,"_ he giggled, high pitched and enigmatically, as though there was something funny. _"We're going now. The curse is going to take us to a different land."_

"Are you coming with me?" I wept, with a hopeful, watery smile.

" _Of course,"_ he tapped my forehead, _"I'm in here. Where you go, I go!"_

"The Queen said we wouldn't remember who we were," I murmured.

" _You will."_

"Me? Why?"

" _Because you're special."_

"I don't understand!" I shouted over the sound of the storm, as the stone walls of the tower began to shake and crumble.

" _My gift to you, dearie. You will remember."_

And then he plunged his hand into my chest, something I'd seen the Queen do, but something I never thought Rumple would do to me. There were no words to describe the sensation of having someone else's hand touching your heart.

" _Remember_ ," he whispered, and then he kissed me. It was soft and tender, loving, everything I dreamed. Then a sharp pain spread throughout my chest and the darkness swallowed me.

* * *

When I woke up, I was greeted with unfamiliar faces and white, unnatural lights. Nurses and Doctors. They told me I was hit by something called a car, that I would have permanent scars. They told me my heart stopped, and I had to be 'revived'. But I knew the truth, and I tried to tell them.

The Evil Queen was there, too, although lacking her extravagant dresses and loyal servants, but still with her black soul and a darkness, a vengeance in her eyes. And that smile, still that same smile with perfect, white, unblemished teeth and rich painted lips. And she locked me away again.


	2. A Land Without Magic

**Author's Note** : I've posted the Prologue, and here is the first chapter, as I had two complete and ready to go. More to come. Still need a Beta. Please review!

* * *

 **A Land Without Magic**

 _28 years later…_

I could hear his footsteps down the stairs. There were twelve stairs. Fourteen footsteps if you included the one on the top landing and one as you reached the bottom landing.

This was someone new.

It wasn't the Evil Queen, the only outsider who ever came to visit me. Her footfalls were harsh and false, and I could tell when it was her – even before her dark eyes and unnatural lashes appeared through the peephole to watch me.

The janitor was just outside the room next to mine, mopping. He wore sneakers, his left shoe always squeaked, barely noticeable but the sound was enhanced by the wet floor.

Still the footsteps came. They stopped. At the nurses counter. Muffled voices. Slosh of the janitors mop bucket. Then the footsteps continued, closer, down the hall towards my room.

Not the Evil Queen. Not a doctor or nurse. Not the janitor. No, these footsteps belonged to someone else, someone who hadn't been here before. Someone new. But surely they wouldn't be here to see me? Years and years and no one ever came. It was just me in my padded room, with an image of the man I loved, who wasn't really there, a reminder of who I was, a tether to my homeland.

The jangling of keys, the turn and click of the lock and soft thud as he pulled the door open. Pale skin, dark hair, haunted eyes and white scrubs, but definitely not a doctor. I wasn't sure why, but it was good, that this newcomer wasn't a doctor. I didn't fully understand the feeling, but perhaps my instincts were ahead of my thoughts, assessing an escape plan. Or perhaps I was severely misjudging this new man. I was hungry, and my medication was eight minutes late.

He walked into the room with such confidence and grace, with a commanding yet soft voice, as though we had been friends for years, but I could not recall ever laying eyes upon this man.

The only thing I was sure of was that this man, although in possession of a gentle demeanour and white scrubs, definitely wasn't a doctor. When he walked in, he left the door open; it was the first thing I noticed. The second thing I noticed was that he carried nothing but a coat in his right hand.

There was a commotion upstairs, hurried footsteps, muffled shouting, it had been going on for several hours. My medication was nine minutes late.

I eyed him cautiously. The door was still open, and it was mocking me. I wondered if I should make a break for it. But I'd been lying in the same position for a while now, and one of my feet had pins and needles. The man looked agile and I found it unlikely that I would get past him, and even if I did, the janitor was just down the hall, and the nurse. I'd tried to get out before. There were too many of them, someone was bound to stop me.

He paused, and looked at my four walls. They were padded, and adorned with tally marks, ripped into the fabric of the wall pads, and tiny wisps of cotton wool peeped through the splits. They were my tallies. It was comforting to me, although the true number of days I'd been trapped in this asylum was impossible to know. Each day bled into the next, and I never thought the light coming through the small window was even sunlight, simply a white, clinical fluorescence, just like every other room in this building. Not that I'd seen every room in this building, but I liked to imagine I knew what they all looked like, the asylum, the hospital and surrounds had nestled into my mind, and it was as soothing to me as my tally marks.

I'd gotten lost in thought, forgetting about the open door and the man in scrubs stood close to me, his hand extended, waiting for me to take it. I didn't.

"Come with me," he said for the third time. I still hadn't moved. I thought if I reached out for his hand, it would disappear like smoke. It wouldn't be the first time I'd hallucinated. Slowly, and not blinking, not willing to take my eyes off this newcomer lest my mind betray me and he disappeared, I sat up. I took his hand, and it grounded me for a moment. He was real. His hand was larger than mine; his skin was smooth and warm. Despite his attractive appearance, I always thought that a man who was to be my rescuer, his hands would be smaller, and cold. A minor detail, but it changed everything. I was as keen to get away from this stranger just as keen as I was to cross the threshold of the _still_ open door and bolt down the hallway.

" _Ask him who he is,"_ Rumple suggested.

"Who are you?" I asked him quietly. "Why are you doing this?"

"My name is Jefferson," he said, tossing the coat on the bed and helping me stand up. He kept his hands on my shoulders and spoke to me with an air of desperation that made me trust him a little more. I wasn't sure why. My coherence hadn't caught up with my instincts yet. My medication was ten minutes late. "And I need your help to do something I can't."

 _My help?_ This man, this Jefferson, needed my help? Perhaps he ought to be in the room next to mine. What possible help could I be? Did he see my tallies? Did he know what they meant? Rumplestiltskin laughed, but I ignored him for now.

"There's a man," Jefferson continued, "His name is Mr. Gold. Find him. All you have to do is tell him where you've been, and that Regina locked you up."

Regina? Mr Gold? I didn't understand names. All I'd known of my time here was eyes and faces and footsteps. I didn't use names; no one ever gave them to me. And now I have three to remember. Jefferson, Mr Gold and Regina?

"What?"

"It's very important," he stared deep into my eyes and it made me uncomfortable. But beneath his reek of desperation his voice was kind, his touch was soft and gentle and at that moment I realised one thing. I wasn't leaving this room without avowing to do as he asked. "Mr Gold's going to protect you," he continued, "but you have to tell him Regina locked you up. He's going to know what to do."

I nodded, and took a glance at Rumplestiltskin, who smiled in approval.

"You understand?

"Yes," I said, softening my tone and smiling a little. "I, I have to find Mr Gold."

"And tell him…" he prompted.

"That Regina locked me up."

I didn't understand the importance of that. Regina was the Evil Queen, who locked me away and took all of the people here away from their homeland, the Enchanted Forest, which no one seemed to remember. The truth didn't make me angry anymore. I was past anger. I was placid in my situation, knowing that the curse would be broken eventually.

Not to mention what the _real_ Rumplestiltskin would do when he discovered what Regina had done to me. I didn't know for sure if the Dark One loved me, or was even capable of love, but I knew for certain that I was bound to him as my master, I was his possession, and Regina took that away. And I knew what Rumplestiltskin did to thieves.

" _Focus, dearie. This is your escape."_

Rumple brought me back from my reverie, just as Jefferson retrieved the coat from the bed.

He put the stolen coat on me gently, helping me get my arms through the sleeves and then wrapping it tenderly across my front, as though I was his daughter and he'd done it a hundred times before, just not for me, for someone he loved.

He took me by the hand, and led me out of the room, down the corridor. The janitor didn't say anything, he just kept mopping, throwing us an indifferent glance as we passed him. The nurses desk looked unoccupied as we approached it, but I saw that there was a nurse slumped over the desk, snoring. There was a locked cabinet behind her. I released Jefferson's hand and started towards it.

"What are you doing?" he said.

"I haven't had my medication yet," I stated. It was almost fifteen minutes late.

"What have they been giving you?" he asked, and he fetched the keys from the belt of the sleeping nurse and opened the cabinet for me.

There was the long blue one, a round white one, and a smaller round white one and a brown capsule. I rattled off my four medications, and he pulled oversized bottles of the stuff out of the cupboard. "Take them now," he said. "Then take the bottles with you. You will have to wean yourself off them if you don't want to end up back here." I heeded his warning very seriously. Whilst I swallowed all four tablets in one gulp, he found a small brown satchel that belonged to someone else. He opened the top drawer and callously emptied the contents of the bag into it, and then stuffed my meds into the bag instead. He lengthened the short strap and hung it over my shoulder, again, as though I was a child.

Then he took my hand again and I expected to be taken up the stairs into the hospital. Instead, he took me through a door and down a second corridor. There were double doors at the end of the corridor, labelled EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY. He pushed the door open and we were outside. The light blinded me, and I stumbled, and he caught me. My asylum had been in the hospital basement, like a dungeon, and this doorway led outside, and there was a set of cement steps and a railing that led up to the ground level. My slippers were thin and not designed for the outside world, I stubbed my toe on the first step, and I cursed in pain, hissing at my own stupidity. This wasn't how I imagined my first steps outside would be. Before I could protest, Jefferson scooped me up into his arms and carried me the rest of the way up the steps. Only nine steps to the ground level where he placed me down. People hardly noticed us, there was a commotion at the hospital entrance, and people hurried down the sidewalk, uninterested in the two strangers that had come up from the underground.

"Go," Jefferson said, "that way," he pointed down the street. "Mr Gold has a shop down the street, you can't miss it. Remember what you have to do."

I nodded and I left. Foolishly, I didn't think to say thank you, but when I turned around, Jefferson was gone, practically vanished into thin air. Momentarily I wondered if I imagined him. Did I open my door, knock out the nurse, and take the bag, my meds, and the coat? Did I find the emergency exit on my own?

The sky was too bright, so I kept my arm over my head to shield my eyes, and I stared at the pavement the whole way down the street to where Jefferson told me to find Mr Gold.

" _What an odd place,"_ Rumple said, as I started walking. _"Strange clothes."_

"They all seem to be wearing similar clothes, so I suppose in this world, _you're_ the one who's oddly dressed," I teased.

His jaw dropped in feigned hurt, and he held his hand over his heart. _"You wound me with your sharp words, milady."_ But it was true. He did look ridiculous. His boots and leather coat, long hair, his oddly pigmented skin and his dark eyes and wicked grin. I thought he was beautiful, in his own way. But he stood out in this world like a sore thumb. But he wasn't really here, not really… just a fantasy of my broken mind. He kept me company all these long years and he was here for me again, as I walked to find this Mr Gold.

I was busy staring at an odd-looking carriage, with no horses, and it appeared to be made of metal, when he spoke again. _"We're here, dear,"_ he said quietly, we were outside a building and he gestured towards a sign above it that read:

Mr. Gold  
PAWNBROKER  
Antiquities Dealer

I didn't like the sound of it. A broker, a dealer. It sounded as though my freedom was to be bargained for, not earned or deserved, as though it was something I would have to pay a price for. I walked up to the door, which had a sign that read CLOSED, but the door wasn't locked. I faltered for a moment, considering who this Mr Gold might be, and why Jefferson sent me here. But I had no choice. In my countless years of being trapped in the dark, Jefferson was the only one who came to save me. And I'd given my word. My fate lay in the hands of Mr Gold, someone I hadn't met before, but I assumed the position that whatever awaited me within the walls of this shop; it couldn't possibly be any worse than what I had before.

" _I'll leave you here, dearie. You don't need me for this."_

"What if I do need you?" I smiled fondly.

" _I'll be right here,"_ and then his shrill laugh as he tapped my forehead. Then he was gone.

I pushed the door open, and a bell rung above my head. I jumped slightly, and the plastic medication bottles in my satchel rattled. The shop was lined with glass cabinets, and all the shelves and racks were adorned with various clocks, precious items and knickknacks. There wasn't a bare spot in the place, but somehow it was neat and cosy. Items were hanging from the roof, one was a boat, but the other two items I didn't recognise, they had wheels and metal frames.

Nothing in this place was what I imagined, and most of it seemed unfamiliar, as though I had never seen any of these things before. I did know a few things, a clock, a boat, a vase, teacups, books. But all these other items I could not name. It reminded me of the Dark Castle.

I heard shuffling in the back room, behind a curtain. Given that the shop was closed, I imagined its only occupant must be the mysterious man, Mr Gold.

I carefully walked towards the curtain, and into the back room, where it was filled with the same items as out the front of the shop, but less tidy and less clean. "Excuse me," I said to a man with his back turned. "Are you Mr. Gold?"

"Yes I am, but I'm afraid the shop's closed," he said, turning to look at me. Then I saw it. A flicker of recognition in his eyes. This man knew me, like Jefferson, but I didn't know him. His mouth was agape with disbelief.

"I was told to find you," I explained, "and tell you that Regina locked me up." He took a few unsure steps towards me, walking with a cane and equal parts doubt and hope etched into the winkles on his forehead. "Does that mean anything to you?" I hoped he might provide me with an explanation, something that would set my mind at ease, but alarm bells were ringing and telling me to get out, RUN. Then he stopped in front of me and uneasily reached out to touch my arm, as though he thought I wasn't real, that I was a ghost. I sympathised. All the years I spent locked up; I had a hard time distinguishing between reality and hallucination. I still wasn't sure if I was truly free.

Then he squeezed my arm, and I saw something in his eyes shift. "You're real," he whispered. "You're alive."

I waited as he raked his eyes over me, seeing my knotted hair, my thin white hospital gown, the stolen coat. "She did this to you."

"I was told you'd protect me," I stated warily, hoping he would keep talking, telling me something. The silence, the lack of explanation was making me more irritated by the minute. I just wanted to know this was real. I was out and I wasn't going back. That it was all true, the Evil Queen, Regina, and she locked me up. That Jefferson freed me.

"Oh yes," he breathed, his voice shaking. He embraced me and hugged me tight. "Yes, I'll protect you." This was more physical contact than I can ever remember being on the receiving end of. I wasn't sure it was normal. But there was something I noticed. His hands were cold, unlike Jefferson's. Mr Gold's hands were bigger than mine, but cold, and in the warm, bright light of the outside world, a little cold darkness was reassuring.

"I'm sorry," I said as he released me. "Do I know you?"

"No," he said. His eyes were watery. "But you will." There was a menacing growl behind that last remark. I knew that voice. I studied this man closely, and the more I stared, the more I could see _him_. I didn't recognise him, with the odd clothes, the walking stick, and his pigmented toad-like skin was gone. He looked like a normal man. There was still darkness in his eyes, though, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the way he last spoke, like it was a promise. A deal.

"R- Rumplestiltskin?" I whispered, looking him dead in the eye, and he took a step back. "Is it you?"

He looked terrified, for a moment, before he recovered. "How do you know my name, Belle?"

"The same way you know mine," I closed the gap between us so I could be closer to his face. I wanted to be sure. He was really here, flesh and blood, in front of me.

"That's not possible," he breathed, and held up his hand for me to stop. He shook his head, as though clearing his thoughts. "There isn't time for this. Come with me."

He led me through the back door, and out into the alley, which led towards the edge of a forest. We walked for ages, slowly going uphill. It was physically taxing, more than I'd walked in years, including the time I spent pacing my cell, for exercise. But my lack of speed due to inactivity was equal to his lack of speed due to his walking stick. I doubted his identity; I swore that he couldn't possibly be the Dark One - with his greying hair and a limp. Then I considered that maybe the Evil Queen's curse took his power away from him, until he was just a man, and this was all that was left. I wondered if this was what he looked like before he became the Dark One. He was just a man, once, after all.

"I don't understand, where are you taking me?"

"Do you trust me?" he queried.

"You taught me never to trust anyone."

He chuckled darkly. "That's the spirit."

We were heading deep into the forest, following the tree line of a ridge above the town. Suddenly, I felt a warm blast of air, and I saw a line of light pass through me. I felt twigs jab into my knees as I fell and darkness consumed me. Images flashed through my mind. Ogres and hunters, those dark eyes I once saw through the peephole in the asylum were now smiling at me from a carriage door. A creature, a lion with a mane of flames, a magical arrow, a thief, a war with the Ogres. A deal struck with the Dark One. Rumplestiltskin! That was his name. Torn curtains and a chipped cup. A stone room with a compassionately provided pillow. Straw and gold thread. A kiss. Angry eyes. Thrown from a castle. Working for gold pieces, bartering for a new book. A tavern. A dwarf named Dreamy. A lion with a mane of flames. Regina! The Evil Queen. She took me and locked me in a tower. Tally marks. Tally marks over and over and over. The amount of days I'd been trapped. The amount of days I'd been parted with my beast, my love. Rumple. A pirate with a hooked hand. Torn curtains and a chipped cup. Green storm clouds choking the land and day after day after day in my room in the asylum in a world none of us belonged. Dark eyes through a peephole. Slosh of the janitor's mop bucket. Blue pills and white pills and tally marks tally marks and "LET ME OUT!" I screamed but no one could hear, just like the tower. Footsteps of doctors and nurses and cleaners and _her_ footsteps, Regina the Evil Queen and her dark eyes and sneering smile checking to make sure I was still frozen and miserable and trapped. All of my memories which I thought I still knew, came rushing back to me at incredible speed and force, thrashing around my mind, making themselves fresh as though it had all happened yesterday, not years before.

When the world came back into view, the light was blinding. The trees were blurred and my throat was hot and restricted. My ears were ringing and a shrill sound pierced the air, weaving between the trees and it took me a moment to realise the sound was coming from me. I was screaming. I stopped, and took several, deep raspy breaths.

I always knew I didn't belong here, that I belonged with Rumplestiltskin, but I couldn't get back to him because of Regina. But I didn't know just how many years had gone by. Too many to count. And I could remember them; all of them, each and every moment, every day is exactly the same, the same routine the same people, the same questions, the same janitor with the same mop bucket and all of it for years and years. And I felt so old, all of a sudden. As though I'd lived a lifetime longer than I should have.

"Belle," I could hear a voice, and his cold hands clutching at me. "Belle, can you hear me?"

"Rumple?" I whimpered.

I could hear him release a huge sigh of relief. "Yes, yes, I'm here. Are you hurt? What happened?"

I breathed, and coughed heavily. My throat was burning. He came into view, crouched over me, smiling softly with concern written all over his face. His normal-coloured face. "I… love." I couldn't get the words out as I coughed again.

"No, no. Don't speak," he said, "I love you too. There's time for that later. First, there's something I must do." He helped me to my feet, and we walked awkwardly onwards, his cane in his right hand and his other arm looped around my waist, supporting me. His hands were cold and I embraced the feeling, telling myself over and over that _it's him, he's real._

"We're here," he left me leaning against a tree as he walked towards a stone well with a wooden top.

"What is this?" I whispered.

"This is a very special place, Belle. The waters that run below are said to have the power to return that which one has lost."

Then I watched as he pulled a small glass vial from his coat jacket, it held a purple luminous liquid. He removed the lid and dropped the vial into the well. I heard a small splash, followed by a deep resounding thud, and a small breath of air. Then purple smoke began to rise from the well, and spill over onto the ground. It moved just like Regina's curse. I remember seeing it roll in from over the hills, powerless and unable to neither stop it nor escape from it, trapped behind bars as it choked and consumed me. "The curse," I whispered, horrified.

"No, no, no," he came towards me with a smile on his face. "Not a curse, a blessing."

"I don't understand." I was getting really tired of saying that. Every time I'd said it today, the response I got only ever raised more questions than it answered.

"You're in a land without magic, Belle. And I'm bringing it. Magic… is coming."

"Why?"

"Why? Because magic… is power."


	3. Broken

**Author's Note** \- Thanks to all who reviewed, favourited and/or alerted this story. Here's more for you. Sorry for any editing, grammar or spelling mistakes I've made in lieu of not having a beta, if you're up for the job, let me know. I'm trying to create a darker path for Belle, and although some things are going to be drastically different, the majority of the story will stay true for season 2 OUAT. Some chapters are named after the corresponding episode name, other episodes contain either very little or no Rumbelle, so I've added extra chapters with my own names. I hope that's easy enough to follow. If you have something to say, good or bad, criticism or words of encouragement, it would be wonderful if you could drop me a PM or a review.

* * *

 **"Broken"**

Magic was here. I could feel it, a surge through my body, fire down my spine and a tingling in my fingers. I'd never felt anything like it before. But I remember, being afraid of magic, and wishing if only I could get Rumple to stop using it. But I'd never truly felt it before, its presence, its power. I could feel it now, and in that moment I realised I was experiencing something exquisite, something I couldn't have possibly understood before.

"My darling Belle," his voice brought me from my reverie. "You have to tell me what happened to you."

"You brought magic," I said, staring at the well, although the purple haze had long since dissipated.

"Yes," he had a sense of urgency, "I need to know what happened to you, Belle."

"I can feel it," I whispered, staring at my fingers as though they were foreign to me, but they weren't. They were my fingers, thin and bony, with pink scars and chewed nails.

"What do you mean?"

"I never felt it before, I can feel it now. I don't understand," I met his eyes which still held puzzlement.

"You can feel the magic," he said. "That's just because there was an absence of it and now-"

But that wasn't what I meant. I couldn't feel the magic as though it were bark on the trees around us. I could feel it _inside me._

"Please, what happened to you?" he insisted.

"I was abducted," I said, quietly, answering his question but not giving him my full attention. I could still feel it, a fire that spread through me when the purple smoke passed over me. And the warmth it left behind, like burning coals at the end of a fire.

"Regina," he sneered.

I nodded. "She locked me away until her curse and I've been in the asylum ever since." My memories were still in disarray. Years in the asylum had stretched my memory further than I could stand, and I honestly didn't realise how much I had forgotten until that pulsating light had brought my memories rushing back. I wasn't sure what happened in which order. But I remembered who I was, I knew Rumplestiltskin, and I knew what Regina did to me.

"For twenty-eight years," his words were laced with poison, and I froze. "All these years, you've been here… alive."

Twenty-eight years. It couldn't be possible. My tallies didn't add up to that much. Or did they? I didn't know. I couldn't know anything anymore. Was this all a dream? Had I fallen so far from reality that I'd slipped into a deep sleep and everything that was happening was a hallucination - that I found him, that Regina didn't win, that I escaped.

I was lost, overwhelmed. "Doesn't matter anymore," I muttered.

"Doesn't matter?" He spat. "No. She did this to you. I cannot let this stand, I WILL NOT LET THIS STAND!"

I took several steps back from him, and stumbled on tree roots, hitting the tree behind me, scratching my palm as I braced my fall.

"No, no," he said gently and came towards me, "I'm sorry, I… I don't mean to frighten you."

I stared at my left palm. It was scratched and bleeding from bracing my fall. It stung, and blood seeped from the scraped skin. It felt real. Pain was real. It was always real. Pain from being thrown to the floor. From being restrained and tranquilised. From scratching at walls, and broken fingernails and torn out hair. Pain was real, and blood was real. I was free.

"Promise me this is real," I whispered, and looked up into concerned and confused eyes.

"You think this isn't real?"

"Promise me," I pleaded. "Promise me this isn't a dream."

He regarded me for several moments, before grabbing me gently. "Oh sweetheart," he cupped my cheek. "I promise." And then he kissed me, once, twice, three times before pulling back slightly and looking into my eyes. I'd never felt more alive.

* * *

The walk back to Mr Gold's shop was a haze. I was in disbelief of reality and sensitive to my surroundings. Every twig that cracked beneath my footfalls reminded me of medication being popped from foil packaging. Every leaf that fell and tumbled to the ground reminded me of dropped plastic cups. My hospital gown was dirty from the forest. And my hand stung, and, inexplicably, it felt good… comforting. I felt out of breath and my throat was still sore. Walking such a long distance was much more than I'd done in twenty-eight years, if what Rumple told me was accurate. I stumbled again and grabbed a tree for support with my injured left hand, I winced.

"You're hurt," his voice cut through the silence. "Here, let me."

I assumed he was going to use magic to heal it. But I didn't want the pain to go away. "No, please don't." He acquiesced, but looked hurt himself to see me in pain. I couldn't explain it to him, how it grounded me, how overwhelmed everything felt, but my stinging palm was holding me together.

"What's in the bag?"

He must have heard the medication bottles rattle when I fell. I couldn't explain that either. I thought it would be best to keep it to myself. I thought I knew him well enough to know he wouldn't understand and that he would be angry about the medication. I knew for sure he kept things from me, there were things I didn't need to know, and in return, this was something that Rumplestiltskin didn't need to know. I also wanted to avoid the possibility that now magic was in the air that he might try to use it on me, to make me better. "Nothing," I said simply, not meeting his eyes.

It was the right thing to do but a part of me was disappointed with myself, that I finally found him, that we could be together and I was starting our new life together with lies and secrets.

He didn't say anything, but with his barely audible sigh I could tell he wasn't happy with my answer. He would probably find out eventually. I would be upfront and honest with him. Later.

The bell chimed again as we entered the darkened shop, and he locked the door behind us.

"You, uh," he paused. "You wait here Belle. I'm going to find you something to wear. You've spent enough time in these rags."

"Thank you," I smiled but he didn't see it.

After several minutes of him pottering around the back room, I got impatient and followed him through the back. When I got there he was wearing leather gloves and stuffing something in his pocket.

"Are you going to kill her?"

"What?"

I wasn't sure what it meant, either disbelief that I could suggest such a thing, or that yes, killing the Evil Queen was _exactly_ what he was going to do, and I was foolish to even ask him otherwise.

"Regina."

He paused, as though taking time to think up a lie. It was a little insulting to my intelligence but I let it slide. After all, had I not lied to him too? I didn't tell him that Regina tortured me, back at her palace, before the curse. I still had the scars, the ones the doctor's said were from an accident, but I knew were from lashings and burns at the hands of Regina – and I had no intention of letting him see them. I didn't tell him I had a bulk stash of psychotics in my bag, or that I planned to self-medicate until I could reduce my medication to zero, so I would never have to see a doctor again. I expected him to lie to me, as I had lied to him.

"No," he answered. I thought he was telling the truth, or a half-truth, at least. Rumplestiltskin did that sometimes.

I was conflicted - relieved that Rumple wouldn't give into his hate, that he wouldn't kill someone else for revenge. But at the same time, the horrors I'd been subjected to, and the terrible things Regina had done – surely she only deserved that which she had inflicted upon others?

"Do you want me to?" he startled me from my thoughts. His question floored me. Did I want him to? Was it heart-warming to think he would go that far, for me? I didn't understand the concept of someone asking me what I wanted. Nobody ever asked me what I wanted, and it was this selfish notion that made me consider that perhaps my life wouldn't have been so unnecessarily painful if somewhere along the road, someone who cared might've asked what I'd wanted.

"I don't know," I shook my head. It was perhaps the most truthful thing I'd said to him so far.

He moved towards a rack of women's dresses, pre-owned but in as new condition. "There should be something here for you. Why don't you pick something out? There are shoes and coats over here. And the bathroom is through there, if you want to clean up."

"Thank you."

"I'll lock the front door. No one should bother you," he gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek as he walked past me. "I'll be back very soon."

"Where are you going?" I queried, not expecting an answer.

"Just a small personal matter I have to deal with," he didn't turn to face me, and disappeared behind the curtain as he headed out the front door.

After I'd picked out a grey dress, dark stockings to cover my legs, a knitted coat and boots, I found myself naked in the bathroom, staring at the ghost looking at me in the mirror, under a white light that reminded me of the hospital. Grey-blue eyes stared back at me, set in a pale face with dull brown hair, purple circles under my eyes and a small nose and thin lips, and a very faint scar from a burn to my face. I remembered receiving the burn. I remembered being strung up with chains, shackles cutting into my wrists as I hung so high only my toes could touch the stone floor. I remember feeling a cold hand from Rumplestiltskin touching my face afterwards, to sooth the burn, my dark, imaginary angel.

Pale, blemished skin over ribs, small breasts, purple spots all over my forearms, from needle after needle, and scratches which I'm certain were self-inflicted. My fingernails were bitten short.

I turned to see my back, and I gave a gut-wrenching sob at the flesh beneath my waterfall of knotted brown hair. As I pulled my tresses aside, I cried as I realised the broken body in the mirror belonged to me - pale skin, tight over protruding bones, and angry, purple and red scars where, long ago, whips slashed through my flesh like a knife through butter. I remembered the sound of the whip cracking; I remember hearing nothing else but the resonating cracks and my own screaming.

I swore Rumplestiltskin could never see me like this. I couldn't bear for him to see the marks from my mutilation any more than I could bear to hear the reason he now walked with a limp.

* * *

He wasn't gone long. I was still in the bathroom, half-dressed, and attempting to fix my hair when he came back. I think he liked what I was wearing. I'm not sure I was appropriately styled for this strange place, but anything must have been better than my white hospital gown and stolen coat.

And with one last self-inspection, I knew he wouldn't be able to see my scars. I covered my arms with a thin knitted coat, and my legs with a pair of thick stockings and a pair of long boots that almost reached my knees.

He called out to say he was making tea, I told him I would be out soon.

I was nervous and worried; I wrung my hands anxiously, and pulled at the ends of my still knotted hair. I hadn't looked in a mirror in so long I'd forgotten what I looked like, and now I didn't like what I could see. I didn't see Belle anymore. Just something that looked a little like Belle used to. I practised a few smiles, before exiting the bathroom. I forgot the dismay of my reflection and felt a little excited about having tea with Rumplestiltskin. They served tea at the asylum. It was lukewarm and made with tea leaves tucked inside a bag with a string attached. This was going to be proper tea, of that I was sure, and it would be just the two of us, like it used to be.

I went to walk through the curtain to the front of the shop when I heard voices.

Rumplestiltskin was speaking to others, two women and a man, and I watched them from the shadows. They accused him of stealing a potion, double crossing someone called Emma, endangering someone called Henry. More names I couldn't put to faces I didn't know because I hadn't seen or met anyone here. The shouting and accusations coming from the next room made my chest tight, and I struggled to breathe. Their voices were drowned out by the sound of my heart beating so fast and reverberating in my ears. I could hear Rumplestiltskin's deep voice echoing through the noise, a cool, calm demeanour despite the tension emanating from the room.

There was a crash and a howling of wind from outside that interrupted the newcomers, and brought me back to reality.

"That, is my gift to you," Rumple spoke to the others. "That… is going to take care of Regina."

I choked back a sob as I realised what he had done. He had twisted his words. He told me he wouldn't kill Regina himself, but he summoned something dark that would. I was conflicted more than ever, that he had lied, or at least told a half truth. I was ashamed for having withheld the truth from him as well. Here we were, in a new land with a second chance and it all started with deceit, affliction and dark magic. All those years locked away and my being reunited with the beast I loved wasn't exactly how I imagined it. The Evil Queen took away the happy endings, but I realise now it had nothing to do with her curse. It was darkness, darkness in all of us.

There was a thin sheen of sweat on my forehead I wiped away with my hand, and as the others left the shop, I walked out to greet Rumplestiltskin.

"Hey," he greeted casually.

"You lied to me," was all I said. _And I lied to you too,_ but I was too afraid to say it out loud. Once, long ago, I had accused him of cowardice, now I knew how it felt.

"No, I-I kept my word," he smiled, lifting a finger in the air like he used to, minus his shrill laughter. "I – will not kill her."

"I thought you'd changed." It wasn't an insult, more of an observation that I'd been wrong about. The short time since I'd found him, I'd been trying to convince myself that Mr Gold was very different from the Rumplestiltskin I knew from long ago. I was wrong.

"What, in the hour you've known me?" he quipped, standing facing me, holding his walking stick in both hands and every bit treating me like a stranger, a foolish girl who didn't know any better.

The room felt hot, and dark. My chest began to tighten again, and I made for the door, unable to listen to his stuttered apologies. I couldn't look at him, and I'm sure he thought I was mad at him.

" _Women,"_ and there my Rumple was again, faithfully at my side as I stepped out into the windy, night air. _"Always making a fuss, storming out the door. And I thought_ I _was a showman."_ He offered me his arm and we walked down the street together. I kept an arm above my face to shield my eyes from the dust and leafy debris blowing about the street, and I stole a glance at my imaginary companion - my Rumple, the way he used to be; with his glittering dark skin, his playful expression.

"I wasn't mad at him," I chided, as we ducked in between two buildings to escape the wind. "I just needed to get out of there. I needed to be outside."

" _Well it certainly looked as though you were mad. Just an observation, dearie."_

"I'm not mad at him, Rumple. But," I shook my head, "I feel like I should be. He lied to me, he's making all the wrong choices. He's brought magic here, he's summoned god knows what to kill Regina," I gestured towards the dark sky.

" _Then why aren't you mad?"_

"Because I lied too."

" _And? What else."_

"And because… the Evil Queen is about to die, and-" I scoffed. "And I should be against it. But I'm not." I whisper those last words.

" _Well, well. Maybe there's a little darkness in your heart after all,"_ he snickers, and we keep walking down the alley, behind the shops onto a smaller street.

"I can feel the magic," I said. "At least- I think that's what it is."

" _Describe it to me,"_ he requests.

I don't know what to say.

" _Tell me…"_ he halted, turned to face me and cupped my cheek. _"How it makes to you feel."_

"Afraid."

" _And? What else."_

"Angry."

" _Powerful emotions, dearie. The use of magic, is emotion. You need to hang onto whatever you feel, and hang on tight, because that – THAT is what is going to save you."_

"From what?" I queried.

" _From that!"_ he giggled as he pointed down the street from us. There, hung a cloaked figure, hovering above the ground, with bony hands, and I shivered. I'd never seen such a creature, before and I was afraid.

"What is that thing?" I cried out, and hung onto Rumple, for what little it was worth.

" _No idea, dearie,"_ he yelled over the howling wind, _"I didn't summon it, that was your Mr Gold!"_

"You're Rumplestiltskin!"

" _No I'm you,"_ and he tapped my forehead again like he always did when he meant to remind me how he was a product of my hallucinations, not real. _"I have no idea what that thing is, but it's looking at you like you're a feast,"_ he hissed with a gleeful grin on his face, and I realised then he expected ME to do something about it.

The creature started towards me then, and I froze in place. "What must I do?" I asked, and I could feel his fingertips brush my hair aside and his lips touching the outside of my ear as he whispered instructions to me. He told me to be afraid, to be angry. To use the two things I could feel the most and then with his hands over mine, I pushed the creature away, just as he was on top of me. Blue fire consumed my entire body, starting with my hands and spreading all over, until I was the centre of a bright blue assembly of flames that kept the beast at bay. It seemed to wait, looking at me, although I couldn't see eyes beneath its dark hood. It felt as though it regarded me as a dark creature, just like it, and not a threat, more like _kin_. It was terrifying and exhilarating.

When the creature left, I started taking deep breath as the flames died down. I could feel it then, I hadn't noticed it before. The heat came from my spine, from my belly, the same warmth in the same place when the purple smoke bought magic to this strange place.

"What was that?" I whispered into the darkness. And I could feel his lips at my ear once again.

" _Magic."_

* * *

I took a long walk, alone, until all my body ached and the heat within me died down. I found myself at the shop door, staring at the doorknob. It was dark, but the night was still and I could hear crickets chirping. Whatever the dark cloaked creature it was that Rumple summoned, it was gone. Perhaps its task was complete.

I opened the door, and once more the bell above the door rang, and it frightened me again, as I wasn't expecting it. The shop was dark, except for a light coming from the back room. He was still here. I could see his shadow and I could hear his spinning wheel turning with soft creaks. I forgot how much I missed that sound. I forgot a lot of things. But I had been thinking on my long walk alone, that I remembered the most important thing, and to my surprise, it wasn't love. It was that the Dark One made me a deal, more years ago than I care to think about, that he would stop a war, and save the lives of my friends and family, my people and countless others, in exchange for spending my life with him… forever. Perhaps the circumstances of his need for me had changed, I didn't know. But Rumplestiltskin had kept the end of his deal; even in what he thought was my death. So I would uphold my word.

I stepped behind the curtain, and I found him sitting at the spinning wheel, and my heart warmed a little, his figure blurred as tears sprung to my eyes, and oh, what a sight it was. For a moment, I saw my Rumple, leather-clad, glittering skinned, with his sad eyes, and nimble fingertips working the thread around the spinning wheel. I was lost in thought when he spoke to me.

"Hey," was all he said. But it was soft and genuine - apologetic, almost.

"I uh, went for a long walk," I started, not knowing how to explain the attack, and how I defended myself against the creature.

"I thought you didn't want to see me?" he prompted, and it's the stupidest thing I'd heard him say yet. Of course I wanted him, didn't he know?

"I… was worried. I saw… the creature you called, for Regina. I was worried for you." More lies, but I couldn't stop myself.

Then the corner of his lips curled, and he almost rolled his eyes at my silly notion, the way he might look at a child in a condescending manner. "Well the beast is gone," he said. "And Regina… lives."

I couldn't hide my disappointed sigh.

"Belle," he mocked, his lips curling and his teeth bared a little. "Are you disappointed that they managed to stop the wraith? That Regina lives?"

I shook my head at him, closing my eyes. "I don't know what I feel. I'm confused, and this place, you, it's all very new to me. I'm… overwhelmed, and I don't know what to-" I froze. There was a table of straw behind him. And on it sat something I hadn't seen for a very, very long time. I knew it was mine, there was no mistaking it. It was burned into my memory just as strong as all the pain Regina wreaked upon me. My chipped teacup.

I moved closer to him, and reached behind it, my fingers touching the cold porcelain as I lifted it into my hands. He stood then, slowly, meeting my eyes. His hands rose, as though he were worried I was going to damage it. I just looked at him, his image blurred by my tears and I couldn't speak. But he nodded, and smiled. He knew, he just knew what I meant to say, but couldn't.

"There are many, many things in this shop," he said, taking the cup from my hands. "But this? This is the only thing… I truly cherish."

I smiled back at him.

"I think you should leave, Belle," he said suddenly, and his words cut through me like a shaft of ice.

"W-What?" I stammered, confused and unable to bear the thought of him throwing me out again.

"Because despite what you hope for me, I'm still a monster. I can't be the good man you want, Belle. If that's what you need to find your happiness Belle, then you must leave. Because you won't find anything of the sort, with me."

I smiled then, and he looked perplexed, but I didn't care. "If you're still the Dark One, then that's what I want. If you're still the lonely monster that can spin straw into gold, and frighten me and protect me and make me laugh all at the same time, then I'm staying. Because, Rumplestiltskin, that is _exactly_ what I want."


	4. We Are Both

**Author's Note:** Hi everyone, thanks to those who reviewed, followed and favourited. I baked you cookies. But I don't think we even live on the same continent, so I'll just eat them while thinking about you. In a lovely endearing not-creepy way.  
*** **WARNING***** This story is rated M for a reason, and this particular chapter contains sex. If you're not interested, that's cool, just scroll past the shower scene and start reading again at the breakfast table.

* * *

 **We Are Both  
**

There was a supper of stew and bread, a simple meal that reminded me of home, followed by tea and a discussion about this world that was so new to me. I was wrapped in a blanket in his sitting room while he sat with one hand balancing on his cane, the other on my blanket-covered knee. He explained to me that I shouldn't go wandering about alone, unnecessarily. It wasn't safe, he said. He had arranged for a local clothing store to deliver an entire wardrobe for me, and he dismissed me with a click of his tongue when I promised to repay him, in the future. He told me I should not leave the house at night, and earlier, he showed me how to lock the doors, and he gave me a key. There were places I was permitted to go, a 'diner' called Granny's. And the 'pharmacy' which I learned was a place you could get medications, but it was very close to the hospital. There was a 'general store' were I could buy food and anything I needed. It was far more freedom than what I'd been initially granted when I promised to become his caretaker of the Dark Castle. He taught me how to use a cell phone, which was a communication device if I ever needed to contact him. He gave me a list of numbers which could be entered into the device to call for help if I needed, to order food, to contact the sheriff, or the hospital. I disregarded the last 'phone number'. I wouldn't be asking for help from the hospital.

It was a lot of information to retain, and I was tired, and confused. I think he sensed this, because he then he told me he was leaving, to go on a trip for a little while, to find his son. I was hard pressed to get any further information. After a long yawn I tried to suppress, all he said was, "Belle, it is a very _very_ long story, and one I will tell you sometime, but not tonight."

Then he showed me to my room. It was much more cosy and welcoming than the place I'd slept for the past… I tried not to think about it in front of Rumple. My chest would get tight and I could feel a warmth spreading through me. Too much, too soon. With a quick but tender kiss goodnight, he left me.

* * *

Hours later, I was dressed in one of his clean shirts, which served as a nightdress, but it exposed a lot of my scathed legs. I couldn't sleep. The room he gave me was too warm, and open, and soft. It was welcoming and unnatural and I felt smothered, compressed.

I sneaked downstairs and out of the house, and relished in the cold night air upon my exposed lower half. There was an enclosed courtyard, a private garden. After several minutes, my eyes adjusted to the soft moonlight and I saw it cast sinister shadows over the garden. In the darkness, I found a workshop, which was below ground level, like a dungeon, but there was a thin, long window above it that exposed the ground level from the garden above. In my sleep-addled mind it was gritty and perfect. I found a chair, and an old cloth which I scrunched up for a makeshift pillow, and after a short while, I fell asleep, in the cold and dark, with the white half-moon light shining through the window.

* * *

I slept soundly, mostly from the physically and emotionally exhausting day before. I woke to sunlight streaming in the window, the sound of birds chirping, and I thought I could hear him speaking to me, like a dream. It wasn't a dream, though and I woke to his face, looking at me, and I smiled.

"Hello," I greeted, but he wasn't as happy to see me as I was him.

"What the hell are you doing down here?" he reprimanded, and I winced as he raised his arm. He was wildly gesturing to the room but for a moment I thought he was going to strike me. I flinched, and he backed down immediately, silently reprimanding himself. "No, no, no, sweetheart, I'm sorry- I," he breathed heavily. "I was just-" I'd only just realised how my presence brought out his vulnerabilities. He was emotional, because of me, and he could hardly construct a sentence. He sighed and closed his eyes, before opening them and gently cupping my face, forcing me to look at him, and I felt so guilty that I indulged him.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and tears stung at my eyes.

"I went to your room, and you weren't there. I called and you didn't answer, have you-" he stopped again as he was raising his voice. Another sigh, and then he continued in a softer voice. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"I'm sorry," I said again. There was nothing else to say.

"What are you doing down here?" he was as mystified as my presence downstairs as I was confused about him questioning it.

"I couldn't sleep," I shook my head. "It's too nice up there."

"Too… _nice?"_

"That's not what I meant-"

"What can I do for you, Belle?" he asked, interrupting me, "What will make you more comfortable?"

"Just STOP IT!"

The sunny world went dark, and my throat burned, and there was the sound of the chair being thrown aside, and before I knew it, I was crouched in the corner, struggling to breathe, and unable to hear anything but the sound of the blood rushing through my ears. I could feel the warmth building at my core, and I panicked even more, but then, _he_ was there, at my side, fingers on my neck and lips at my ear. _"Control it, dearie,"_ he whispered. _"Your feelings are reaching too deep, let it go. Stop feeling, shut it down."_

Shut it down. Shut it down, shut it down, I kept saying to myself over and over and it wasn't until I heard Mr Gold's voice in the background that I realised I was speaking out loud.

"Belle? I'm sorry love, I didn't mean to startle you. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise…"

 _Shut it down, shut it down._

"Shut what down, love?"

Breathing now, just breathe.

"Belle," and there was a hand on mine. Not the hand I was used to, glittering and pigmented, no - this one was pinkish coloured; like a normal man. But it was the same curves, and the same coldness. "Are you okay?"

He waited patiently for an answer, while I tried to slow my breathing. Rumple was right, about my feelings. The emotion swelled, and so did the power within. Then, I wiped my tears and with a sniff, I put on my best pretend smile as I met his eyes. "I'm fine now," I whispered, smiling softly.

I think perhaps it dawned upon him then, only then, that I wasn't okay. And there was such love and adoration in his eyes, but fire also, anger and vengeance. What was done could not be undone. There were several minutes of him knelt at my side, while I looked at him, before he asked if I would go upstairs with him. I agreed, and I noticed the less I spoke, the more he seemed troubled.

To quell his concern, I decided to ask him why he used a cane. He simply and nonchalantly explained that centuries ago, he was a cripple, before becoming the Dark One. But with his power, his injury was cured. During the curse, without magic, his leg was still damaged. To my relief, he said that thanks to magic, it didn't hurt anymore. I argued that he didn't answer my question, why he still used the walking stick. "Habit, dear," he said. "I've been walking with a limp for 28 years, and just because the curse is broken I'm not likely to stop overnight."

We both froze at his words, him more surprised than me at what he said. He'd spoken the exact words I'd wanted, needed, to explain to him, but I didn't know where to begin. I was broken, so very broken. There wasn't a part of me left that the Evil Queen hadn't shattered. My spirit was a fragmented mess of bones and flesh held together with sinew. And for twenty-eight years and then some, I'd endured it. And it wasn't going to change overnight, even with a broken curse, even with magic, even now that I had the real Rumplestiltskin, it wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

In his eyes, dark and knowing, there was an understanding, something I hadn't seen before. I clenched my fists nervously trying to think of what to say. Sensing my discomfort, he gently pulled me towards him, kissing me on the forehead. "I understand," he murmured. "I'm going to help you get through this, if you'll let me."

I nodded, wordless and unsure, and when I averted my gaze, I caught sight of a clock on the wall. Two minutes late. My stomach growled, making itself quite known, and he chuckled, withdrawing from me with a lopsided smile. "I'll make you breakfast."

"I should get changed," I said, as I tried to move I noticed my very bare legs brushed up against his trousers. I couldn't help blushing, and I made a beeline for the stairs when he spoke.

"Belle." I froze mid-step, and looked back down at him. He sighed again, like he had done many times in the last day we'd been together. It was always before he was going to say something that made him uncomfortable, but words that needed to be said, anyway. "I hope," he pointed with his cane towards my exposed legs. "I hope you're not- in pain."

I looked down at my legs, and of course, they looked normal to me, the same two legs I'd had my whole life. But my version of normal was perhaps quite different from his. I looked at my legs a little longer and tried to see them from his perspective. There was a raised scar from a burn above my left knee, it was permanently swollen and several inches across. There were other, smaller blemishes from burns, cuts and bruises. And on the back of my legs, there were the start of the multi-directional marks from the lashings, but I hoped the length of his shirt covered those. "No," I responded. "Not at all. Not anymore."

"I hope," he looked away, and started down the hall towards the kitchen. "I hope one day you'll tell me everything."

I nodded, although he couldn't see, and I continued up the stairs. But that was a lie too. I wouldn't be telling him everything. Those secrets were my burdens to bear, and I thought whatever Rumple had been through, since losing his son, I wouldn't be adding to his anguish.

When I went upstairs, I retrieved my hidden medication bag and I picked out my various tablets. There was a bathroom, an 'ensuite' he called it, which was for my sole use. I used the tap water to swallow my medication, and afterwards I decided to shower. The shower was much nicer than the one I was forced to use in the asylum. This one was enclosed, and the temperature was actually hot, instead of lukewarm. There were bars of scented soaps that I noticed were not there yesterday, and I smiled. He was doing his level best to make me comfortable.

" _I've gone soft, haven't I?"_

"I don't like that word," I admonished. "He's just trying to make me feel at home."

" _Do you miss it?"_

"What, home?"

" _Yes."_

"Yes. I miss that ghastly room, with the straw bed. And that beautiful pillow you made me,"I laughed, and I heard his high pitched giggle echo around the bathroom. I went to put shampoo onto my hands, but _he_ stopped me.

" _Allow me, milady."_ I smiled and nodded. It was nice to know this was the same, him joining me in the showers. But it was more sensual and private without a nurse looking on, worried I was going to choke on the soap, or purposely strike the tiled wall until I broke bones. And tiles.

I was unashamedly letting out soft moans as my dark angel worked his shampoo lathered fingertips through my long hair, massaging my scalp as he went. _"You know I'm not really here,"_ he whispered.

"Mmm, don't care," I smiled with my eyes closed, and he stopped his ministrations and gently pushed me against the tiles. I gasped as my warm skin came in contact with the cool tiles, and he laughed again.

" _You know,"_ he came in close again, his body pressed against mine and his lips on my ear. " _He's right downstairs."_

"Then I'll be quiet."

" _Why don't you go to him?"_

"It's too soon," I said. "And I don't want him to see me like this."

" _Well I might be a crazy woman's hallucination, but he and I have at least one thing in common,"_ he purred.

"And what might that be?"

" _That despite whatever has happened to you,"_ and he started trailing kisses down my chest, _"despite whatever marks you have,"_ more kisses, lower and lower. _"You're still a Beauty to me."_

He was on his knees then, and kissing a trail down from my navel to my most sensitive area, and he started circling the bundle of nerves with his tongue. He hitched one of my legs over his shoulder and the other I kept on the floor for support. I clutched at the smooth wall, and had my other hand buried in his hair as he doubled my pleasure by slowly pressing his fingers into my folds and thrusting inside me. I bit my lips so hard I tasted blood and I couldn't contain the pressure building inside.

"Rumple," I gasped, quietly, unable to breath and he hummed happily, not stopping until I came completely undone, and ethereal blue flames erupted from my fingertips as I cried out and the world fell away. I was left on the floor of the shower, alone, with the shower stream hissing violently as my flames died down. There were black charred marks on the white tile floor, but the water jet slowly washed them away, and I helped by rubbing my hands on the black residue.

When I got out of the shower, I found a large pile of brown paper packages, which to my delight was the new clothes I'd been promised. The fashions were strange, but I found they were elegant in their own way, without the billowing skirts and strung corsets I grew up in. I found a black dress with long sleeves that hugged my figure in a way I wasn't entirely comfortable with. But I was feeling a little bold, so I decided to wear it. I'd worn tights yesterday, and perhaps Mr Gold had noticed, perhaps even liked the way I looked in them, because I found several more pairs. Whether intentional or not, I would wear them, even if to simply please him. There were a pair of boots also, like the ones I'd worn yesterday but these were brand new, a blue colour with black embroidered detailing. They were beautiful, new and all mine. And they fit perfectly. I shrugged on a long cardigan before tossing my hair into a damp ponytail and I opened my door. A scrumptious scent wafted from downstairs, teasing me, beckoning. I followed the trail, and I found Mr Gold in the kitchen. I didn't know what to call him. Rumple, Rumplestiltskin, Mr Gold or Dark One. In my mind I used all four, but out loud, I didn't know which was most appropriate. Or which he liked.

He seemed so casual, so normal and at ease with the task, and I watched him quietly for a moment, as he stirred ingredients in a fry pan. _I'm not a man,_ he told me once, but I begged to differ. He was both a man and a beast. One of the same. And I loved him.

"It's rude to stare, dearie," he mused, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. I thought he hadn't seen me. "Or should I be flattered?"

I felt my cheeks growing hot as he raised his eyes from the sizzling food to meet mine. His jaw dropped slightly, and his gaze held an affectionate regard. "You're glowing," he commented, "You look stunning."

My words caught in my throat. Glowing? Did he know what I'd been doing upstairs? "Yes," I stammered. "It was nice having a shower… that was actually hot."

"Good," he said. "Are you alright?"

"Why- wouldn't I be?"

"I thought I heard you shout, before. Did you hurt yourself?"

I seated myself at the table, behind him and he turned back towards the stove, stirring. I didn't want him to see my face, as I could feel myself blushing furiously. "Almost," I lied. "The soap made the floor slippery… I almost slipped in the shower. I caught myself, though. I'm fine."

I heard him curse under his breath. I didn't catch his words but I imagined he was thinking of how clumsy I was. "I'm still clumsy, after all these years," I quipped.

"Oh, I noticed," he threw a serious glance my way, but there was still the ghost of a smile on his features. He was happy to see me, I thought. I wondered how long it had been since he'd cooked breakfast for a guest. I wondered if he had _ever_ done such a thing.

"It smells delicious," I felt a little brave and I walked up behind him. "What is it?" I saw an array of colours in the frypan, yellow which I thought was eggs, and red and green and white.

"This," he brought me close, and the aroma filled my senses, "is your breakfast, milady." My breath hitched as I realised just how unashamedly close he was surveying me. "And this," he picked up a small vial, "is oregano."

"Oreginnow," I tried to wrap my tongue around the new word, and he laughed.

"It's a herb. Herbs and spices, are _this_ world's- most powerful magic," he sprinkled it into the frypan and stirred it through the ingredients. "I have travelled to a few different worlds, before the curse, before coming here. And I have never seen or tasted such a rich variety of flavours and aromas, than this world has to offer."

I smiled, then, and he exuded pride, or self-assurance, I wasn't sure... but it was enthralling none the less. "Can I help?" I offered, and he clicked his tongue in distaste.

"You'll do nothing of the sort," he chided. "Sit down, it's almost ready."

I sat obediently and I watched as he sliced some bread, and inserted them into a silver machine, a toaster he called it. And within minutes he served me tea and toasted bread with butter, and a pile of the multi-coloured frypan contents. I sat a watched it for a while before he sat down, too, and realised I hadn't picked up my fork.

"I thought you were hungry?"

"No, I am-" I said. "And it smells delicious, I really appreciate it."

"Then what's wrong?"

"It's just," I turned the plate, and I didn't know how else to say it. "What _is it?"_

He lowered his eyes momentarily, brows furrowed and one side of his lip curled. I recognised that face as I'd seen it a thousand times before. I'd amused him. "It's scrambled eggs, dearie."

"Well I can see there's eggs in it," I picked up my fork.

"Do you trust me?" He had a tone of indifference, despite the personal nature of the question.

"Yes," I whispered after a long pause.

"Just try it," he said simply, before spearing his own food with his fork, and I watched him for a moment before I began to do the same.

It was just as delicious as I'd hoped and I moaned a little. When I licked my lips I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes dropped to my mouth, before he looked away.

Half way through my meal, he stopped to pour me tea, and I paused to watch him do it.

"That's different, you pouring me tea," I said, staring at the brown aromatic liquid that filled the white teacup. I was lost for an indeterminable amount of time as I recalled the countless times I'd poured tea for him in the castle, him seated at the end of the long table, and averting his eyes whenever I caught him staring at me. I amused him, I think, with my idiosyncrasies at tea time. The exact time the kettle spent on the fire, warming the pot then discarding the water before brewing the tea, the exact amount of tea leaves, the way the cups were positioned when I went to pour.

I felt a cold hand on my cheek and another over my hand when I came back to reality. Without my realising, Rumple had crossed the table and was leaning against the table for support, trying to gain my attention, his eyebrows drawn in concern but waiting patiently for me to answer.

"Sorry," I mumbled, averting my eyes down to my half-eaten breakfast.

"You don't have to apologise to me, Belle," he walked back over to his side of the table. "Not ever."

* * *

Sometime after breakfast, it was time for goodbyes. He promised he would call on the talking phone machine, and he wouldn't be gone long. He made me promise to be safe, which I did. I wasn't worried, though. I had little intention of leaving this place, venturing into the outside world without him there with me.

Within an hour of him leaving, I cleaned the kitchen and I found a cupboard which contained cleaning supplies. There were various bottles of cleaning substances which I didn't trust, but there was one thing I could count on being the same, no matter which world we lived in – the feather duster.

I set about clearing the thin layer of dust upon his home, which clearly had been done, by someone, but not recently. I opened windows to allow fresh air into the house, and I made the beds. I laundered my clothes from yesterday using a bucket and some soap, and I hung them outside to dry. I cut some fresh flowers and placed them in a vase in the kitchen. In his workshop I made myself a more comfortable sleeping area in case I found myself needing it again when nightfall came.

It was late afternoon when he came back, and I was delighted to see him. I never thought he would be gone for only half a day, but when I saw the look on his face, I knew his plans had changed.

"What happened?" I queried, and there was fury in his eyes which made me wish I'd never asked.

"Change of plans," he snapped, "a complication has risen."

I took his coat from him and I hung it by the front door. When I turned, I found him lingering in the shadows, staring at me. I approached him tentatively and I reached out to lay a hand on his chest. "Whatever it is, you'll find a way. I know you will."

Then he pressed me against the wall and kissed me fervently, hands everywhere, on my hips, and over my ribs, brushing the underside of my breasts. It was everything I'd desired, and everything I was afraid of, and it was too much, but I was powerless to stop him. He appeared to lose interest after a few moments, and he left me standing alone in the hallway, breathing heavily and a little dizzy from the lack of air. "I've come too far," he walked down the hall towards the kitchen, away from me. "Nothing is going to get in my way."


	5. Complications & Comforts

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, thanks for the support. I was very nervous about the last chapter, and although I haven't had any feedback about it, I have had a lot of favouriters and followers, which I hope means I'm doing something right. Your support means alot to me. Thanks a bunch. Here's another chappie. TAKES PLACE DURING EPISODE LADY OF THE LAKE - Which I believe doesn't feature any Rumbelle, so I've had to make the whole thing up. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Complications and Comforts  
**

It was late, I imagined moon was high, and Rumple was on his fourth glass of whiskey as he sat across from me in the sitting room. I was curled up with a cup of tea on the sofa and he was in the armchair opposite, eyeing me in an appraising manner. His furniture tastes reminded me of his castle, and for a while I imagined him in leathers, with a chipped teacup in his hands, assessing me like I was a riddle he couldn't solve. But that life was gone, I thought. And perhaps we might be able to return to it one day, but I didn't hold high hopes.

He provided me with a deep red knitted blanket when I asked for one, but I was still a little cold, and I shivered a little. His eyes had hardly left me, and he didn't miss it for one second. Without asking, and with such refinement, he lit the fireplace with a fireball and a flourish of his hands. It all happened so quickly I found myself replaying the moment it happened over and over in my head. He conjured the flame from nothing, and it hovered in the palm of his hand, not a part of him, but an external force he could summon and control. It was very unlike what I had experienced of fire. Mine came from within me, I could feel it in my veins.

I was so lost in thought staring at the flickering fireplace, I belatedly realised he was waiting for some kind of reaction from me. "Thank you," I hid a smile behind my teacup.

"You're welcome," he said. He was much calmer than when he'd walked through the front door hours ago, irritated and lustful. Although after deliberation I found I didn't mind the abruptness of the latter.

"Are you going to tell me what the problem is?" I asked softly, averting my eyes as he lightly tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Why you couldn't leave today, like you planned."

"The curse is broken," he looked away from me then, into the fireplace. "Everyone has their memories back. But the curse was powerful, and… layered," he gestured smoothly with his fingers. "There were… barriers and failsafes, and for the most part they were built to serve my purpose. But one of those barriers still remains. If anyone crosses the town line," he sighed then. "They lose their memories of their true selves. Only their cursed memories remain."

"So if you were to cross," I prompted.

"Then I wouldn't remember who I really was, or that I needed to find my son. I would revert back to being Mr Gold. Pawnshop owner," he swallowed the last of his scotch, and the ice cubes clinked together as he lowered the empty glass to a small table beside his armchair.

"So you need to break the spell, the… barrier that's in place," I suggested, and he gave me a lopsided smile that made me feel condescended and unversed it the ways of magic.

"I don't know what repercussions that would have," he folded his hands in his lap, "So I'm not going to break it down. I'm going to find an enchantment that will allow me to cross, but protect me from losing my memories."

"You'll find a way," I assured him. "I know you will."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "I'm trying to remember at what point you acquired such unyielding blind faith in me."

"You wouldn't remember," I said. "It was before we met."

"Oh?"

"I'd heard stories, and I knew the things you'd done," I started.

"Terrible things, no doubt," he smiled then, wicked and proud.

"Terrible, but great," I replied. "I didn't know you but I knew of your greatest accomplishments and I just _knew_ that you could stop the war, and I knew that whatever price you demanded was worth it."

"Good," he mused. "I wish you would go back in time and tell your younger self that. It might save all those nights crying."

" _That,"_ I pointed at him, "was aches and pains from making me sleep on a straw mattress on the floor."

"Yeah and I feel really bad about that, I do," he held a hand over his heart. "But I gave you a nice bed upstairs, and you chose to sleep in the shed. There's no pleasing you."

I laughed then, and his face seemed to light up when I did.

"Come here," he held out his hand. It wasn't a request.

I untangled myself from my blanket, and as I neared him, I left my teacup on the table and I took his hand. He pulled me towards him and scooped me up in his arms, setting me down on his lap before I could protest, and he looped his arms around my waist, and looked at me with the same desire he'd unleashed in the hallway hours earlier. I saw the reflection of flames in his dark brown eyes and I lifted a hand to his cheek. He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, exhaling. "I thought you were long dead," he whispered, his voice uneasy.

"It was the thought of getting back to you that kept me going," I said proudly, wrapping my arms around his neck. "And seeing as I'm here, I think the optimism paid off." The last part was a small lie; I hoped to ease his sorrow. I licked my lips nervously, and his eyes darted to my mouth again, when he suddenly leant forward and he kissed me. There was a sense of urgency about it and I couldn't stop it, nor did I want to when his tongue pressed against my lips, forcing them open. He tasted like whiskey and the new contact made me start to feel brave, and I bit on his lip a little. I was rewarded with a deep resonating growl that sent a shockwave of desire to my core and I shifted on his lap to be closer to him. As I moved to straddle him, his hands started to roam, and it was tantalising and everything I dreamed and hoped, until I could feel his fingers trying to get beneath my clothes, to touch my skin and I flinched. "Stop," I breathed. The flicker of hurt in his eyes was heartbreaking, but I kissed him as I held his hands still. "I can't," I said softly, "It's too much."

"Of course," he said quietly, and he shifted uncomfortably. I moved to get off his lap, and with one lithe movement, he stood and started walking away.

"Rumple-"

"It's fine, Belle," he cast a look over his shoulder. "I pushed you, I shouldn't have and I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," I started before he interrupted me again, with his hand raised to shush me.

"I told you, you don't have to apologise to me," he said kindly, and granted me an understanding smile. "It's late and I have work to do. You should go to bed."

The thought of going upstairs alone to my own bed with all its comfort was daunting, and I would prefer the small soft spot I'd created for myself in the workshop. "I'm not very tired," I offered nervously. "Could I come with you?"

His eyebrows drew together.

"I don't want to be alone," I said with a shrug. I knew he would give in to me, and I was secretly rapt that I could manipulate him like that.

"Of course," he permitted, and I collected my red blanket and followed him outside into the courtyard, and downstairs into the workshop.

I stood awkwardly as he took a seat on the bench at the table and started organising glass vials, and various other relics I didn't understand the importance of. I looked around the workshop and I saw ghosts of the past in the scattered items from Rumplestiltskin's collection. "All these came with you when the curse was cast?" I tapped on the lid of a jar with a severed hand preserved inside. "You never told me the story behind this one," I prompted.

"And I never will," he said bluntly. "It serves as a reminder, nothing more. I've no desire to dwell on events that are centuries past us."

I didn't push for an answer, instead left him to his devices. I found a dusty book on a shelf, and I took it, and returned to my pillow in the corner of the room. I snuggled in with my blanket and caught him stealing glances at me. "Comfortable?"

"Very," I smirked and opened up in the book. It was in ancient Elvish.

"That's magic, dearie," he warned, not looking up from his work. "And it's in Elvish, I doubt you'll understand a damn thing it says."

My spirits fell, then. I guess all that Rumplestiltskin knew of me was nothing more than a noble girl turned house maid, turned prisoner. He didn't know of all the books I'd read, and the adventures I'd been on, the creatures I'd faced and the people I'd saved. I felt a little like a petulant child as I snuggled closer with the neglected book and I started to translate it. It took me several tries to get the first passage, but thereafter the rest of the Elvish characters seemed to fall into place.

I could feel the warmth inside myself, as I read the spells to myself as though they were kindling to the fire. And as I read them, something occurred to me.

"What would happen if I crossed the town line?"

"W-what?" he stammered. "I wouldn't let you."

"Hypothetically," I assured him. "I retained my memories from before the curse, and during the curse I knew exactly who I was and I had no false memories of being born and raised in Storybrooke. So what would happen if I crossed the town line?"

"I imagine," he exhaled loudly, "that you would become afflicted with amnesia. You would have no idea who you were, at all. Your mind would be a completely blank slate."

"Okay," I returned to my book. "Best stay away from the town line, then."

"Yes please," he shook his head, exasperated, as he continued to work. I could tell my question had bothered him. Or rather, the intent behind the question. It just occurred to me that if I was immune to the memory loss, then perhaps I was the key to him being able to cross. But he wouldn't hear of it, and there was a fierce protectiveness in his refusal. I loved him a bit more for it.

There was a long pause before he stopped what he was doing and spoke to me. "There was a failsafe built into this curse, for me," he said. "That the name of the Saviour, the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, would trigger my old memories. That was some months ago. But for the first twenty eight years of the curse, I thought I was Mr Gold. I had no memory of being anyone else, and for the most part, I was reasonably content with my life."

I watched him, waiting patiently for him to continue.

"Time froze during the curse," he continued. "It was a sort of ongoing loop, where every day was exactly the same, really. For twenty eight years I walked down the same street, seeing the same people doing the same things. And we were all blissfully unaware of it. And that was the terrible beauty of the curse, to be frozen in time, with no happy endings, no memory of who we once were, and not even be aware of it."

My gaze fell as I realised where he was going with this, and I couldn't help the tears forming in my eyes.

"But you knew," he breathed, "you knew who you were. You would have been completely aware of each and every day being exactly the same. Time never moved forward, for twenty eight years, and you knew it."

I was crying then, and he was at my side in a heartbeat, "That must have been hell," was all he said, as he hugged me.

"It's more than that, though," I sniffed, and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. "I was trapped, in that asylum, and no one else believed me. I used to yell and scream at them, but they would just call it a psychotic episode and have me sedated for being violent. For being high risk to myself and others."

"Oh, Belle."

"After a while, I stopped telling them, just kept my mouth shut."

"Did they give you medication to _help?"_ he queried.

"Yes," I said simply, and tried to change the subject. "So you see," I put my hand over his. "Why I couldn't sleep upstairs last night. So many years stuck in that place, with hardly any light, or warmth. Only padded walls and a window, just like that one," I gestured towards the tall thin window above the workshop. He nodded, and squeezed me hand.

"I understand," he said. "I'll try and make you as comfortable here as possible."

"I'm not okay, Rumple," I continued and he averted his gaze again, uncomfortable with the subject matter but willing to listen. "And I won't be for a long time. I expect… that I'm going to have good days and bad days. And I hope you're willing to accept that."

He took my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. "Yes."

* * *

When I woke in the morning, there were some differences. Before I had a pillow and blanket on a chair, now I had a long chaise, beautiful oaken wood with rich red pillows – it was exactly like the one in the Dark Castle, where I used to read in the main hall. I found I was warm, as there was a small fireplace in the centre of the room, a black metal potbelly stove with a flu that ran up through the roof. His table had been pushed off to one side of the room, and his spinning wheel sat in the corner, a length of gold thread dangled from the end as though he'd just been there moments before.

The sun morning sun rose and shone through the high window, blinding me, and I gingerly untangled myself from my blanket, and stood to stretch. A delightful aroma met my senses, and I followed my nose, finding a tea tray waiting for me on the table.

I heard his footsteps by the door, and I could practically hear him smirking.

"How did you do all this without waking me?"

"Magic."

Of course, silly question.

After tea, I went to shower upstairs, and to my amusement, I found an odd sort of mat on the shower floor, and I stifled a laugh. I had told him the morning before that I had slipped in the shower, a lie to cover my naughty encounter with my invisible angel.

I couldn't hide my massive grin as I showered, and as if my mood had summoned him, I felt Rumplestiltskin's fingers touch my skin, and I sighed as I let him take over washing my shoulders and back.

" _What are you smirking at?"_

"You're a product of my damaged psyche, I think you know exactly what I'm smirking at," I teased.

" _What's this silly thing on the floor?"_

"It's the reason I'm smirking."

" _Oh, I see. He_ _ **heard**_ _you."_

"I told him I almost slipped in the shower," and I turned to give him a reprimanding glare.

" _It's not my fault,"_ he pouted, _"You shouldn't have expressed your gratitude so loud."_

"You shouldn't be in here," I smacked his hands away, and he feigned a hurtful expression.

" _Are you kicking me out?"_

"Today I am."

" _Fine, suit yourself. Just remember dearie,"_ he spun me around, a playful smile on his lips. _"I'm always here. You can't be rid of me."_ And with a tap on my forehead, he was gone.

I didn't want to be rid of him. I needed him, and he knew it.

* * *

When I ventured downstairs, dressed and ready for the day, Rumplestiltskin showed me how to use the toaster, and an electric kettle – a way of boiling water without putting it on the stove or over a fire. It was fascinating. I worried with the easy ways of this world, that I might forget how to function back home, how to prepare a meal or make tea or stoke a fire. Of course there was always the distinct possibility that we wouldn't make it back home. It was a question that lingered in the back of my mind, but I was hesitant to ask Rumple about it. He needed to focus on crossing the town line, and finding his son.

"I've been wondering…" I started, and he raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to continue. "If you created the curse to come to a land without magic, why you needed to curse everyone else, too. Why couldn't you just… do it to yourself and bring yourself here?"

He exhaled, and took my shoulders in his hands. "Everything that's happened is complicated; you're acting as though it's black and white, simplifying it so it's easier for you to understand, but the world doesn't work like that. Events and peoples fates are tied into an intricate web of time and magic, and I manipulated certain things and certain people to help bring me where I am today."

"You didn't really answer my question," I countered.

"Why did everyone else have to make the trip? Because after I lost you, I went a little… mad. Like I said, I manipulated and tricked and pulled strings to bring me where I am today, and because you made me happy, and you were taken from me, I didn't think anyone else deserved happiness either."

It was the truth, grisly and raw, that everyone else's suffering was intentional. There was a vacancy in his eyes as he waited for my response. He was testing me. Showing me the monster was still there, waiting for me to run. Part of me thought I should be horrified by his actions. And another still overlooked the monster for the man who created a luxurious safe haven for me in the workshop downstairs. And a growing part of me found it… alluring. I actioned the latter and I approached him, pressing him against the kitchen counter and wrapped my arms around his neck. He was pleasantly surprised with my boldness, and he brought one hand up to caress my neck, and his thumb played across the feint scar on my cheek. He frowned a little as his eyes narrowed, tracing the outline.

"I could get rid of it for you," he offered, but I shook my head. "Why?"

I licked my lips nervously, something I seemed to do often in his presence, before I spoke, "for the same reason you wouldn't like it if I fixed that chipped teacup. It's chipped for a reason, and if it were to be repaired, maybe it wouldn't serve as the reminder it used to be."

"As you wish," he said, releasing me from his embrace and he removed my hands from his shoulders. "I'm going to open the shop."

"Do- you want me to come with you?"

"Do you _want_ to come with me?"

"I want to be useful to you," I admitted. "And… I don't like being here. Alone."

He acquiesced and allowed me to go into the shop with him, but I think he also didn't want to be alone. He opened up the shop, and as I found a feather duster and started to clean the top most shelves, exploring the various objects as I went. I didn't get far before he forbade me from using the ladder, something about me being accident prone, so I cleaned the lower shelves instead, the ones I could reach without the ladder. There was a wide array of wares and trinkets, some of which didn't look like they held any proper worth, only sentimental value. Some I think, held magical properties, but I think he kept those well out of mine, or anyone's, reach.

I found various books, some of which were in languages I had studied, others I didn't know. Some were fiction, others history. I asked if I could borrow them, promising to return them undamaged, but he insisted I keep them. The more I desired, although little more than creature comforts, I found he would find a way to give it to me. Gifts, I realised, which although kind and unnecessary, were simply his way of enticing me to stay with him, but I truly didn't need the incentive.

* * *

When lunch time came around, he asked me to accompany him to Granny's diner to collect our meal. I was greeted with several unfamiliar faces, looking at the pair of us, and the diner went very quiet.

"Can I get you and your friend a seat, Mr Gold?" an elderly woman asked, as she peered over her glasses at us.

"We'll get our lunch to go, thanks." There was something in his voice, something threatening, protective, even? Some kind of history I knew nothing about, and it probably had something to do with the twenty eight years I'd been locked away. I imagined I missed a lot of things.

"Your usual, Mr Gold?" a pretty brunette with red lips and kind eyes approached us with a pad of paper and a pencil. He nodded briskly, and then she looked at me. "And what can I get for you?"

"I… don't know," I admitted quietly, and I started fisting my hands as I noticed several people had stopped eating and were staring at me.

The waitress, her name tag read "Ruby", seemed to notice my discomfort, and she turned to glare at the others. They ashamedly resumed eating their meals, only stealing glances at us occasionally.

"How about a club sandwich," Ruby offered. "And a hot cocoa, to go?"

I nodded, and tried to control my breathing. I felt Rumple's hand caress the small of my back, and I tried to focus on that instead.

While we waited, Ruby engaged me in friendly conversation, which Rumple seemed to pointedly ignore.

"I'm Ruby, by the way," she extended her hand, and I wiped a sweaty palm on my skirt before accepting it. "And you are?"

"Belle," I said quietly.

"Sorry about them," she gestured towards the other customers. "We don't see newcomers very often, or… you know _ever._ But still, _rude."_ And she rolled her eyes charmingly and I couldn't help but feel somewhat attracted to her openness. Minutes later, she was handing me a strange cardboard cup tray, with two paper cups, one marked 'Belle,' and a paper bag sitting between them, which I assumed contained said 'club sandwich' and whatever Mr Gold's 'usual' was. I turned to leave, when she gently touched my sleeve, leaning over the counter. "If you wanted to come back, it's pretty empty here after six."

"Thanks," I gave a weak smile and headed towards the door, as Rumplestiltskin ushered me away he kept his hand on my back as we walked back towards his shop, and I focused on the feel of his touch and the sound of footsteps. It helped quell the tension knotting in my gut.

"Are you alright?" he queried, after locking the door behind us, so we couldn't be disturbed during lunch.

"Fine," I said, as I breathed evenly. "I just wasn't expecting so many people. And I didn't think they would look at me… like that."

"I could remove their eyes, if you like, it's no trouble."

I laughed then, and his face lit up a little, but I could see there was gravity in his threat.

"Ruby was very kind to me," I commented.

"Yes, she's a nice girl. Most of the time," he muttered, cryptically.

"Do you… mind, if I go back later and say hello?" I queried.

"You can do as you like. There's work to be done, and I've no need of you."

To anyone else his words would have seemed stone-hearted, but not to me. To me, it was his harsh way of expressing his indifference to how I spent my time, coupled with a wish to be alone to work on his town-line problem. I simply smiled to myself, and started to unpack the lunch bag.

"What are you smiling for?"

"I'm smiling, _Mr Gold_ , because I'm happy."


	6. Hard Learned Lessons

_**A/N:** I am so sorry for the delay, truly. Life got in the way. I've had a lot of trouble writing these next four chapters 6-9. I really feel they're not up to scratch, which is why I'm asking again, if any of my readers would like to beta for me, I would appreciate it. I hope to upload the next four chapters within a week of eachother. Thanks for all who reviewed, favourited and followed._

* * *

 **Hard Learned Lessons**

After a few days, I had a routine, of sorts. I would fall asleep in the workshop, reading a book while Rumplestiltskin worked. I would take my medication morning and night, and I had halved the dosage with minimal withdrawals. Every morning I would shower and share breakfast with Rumplestiltskin, and then he would drive us to the shop. I spent the morning cleaning despite his insistence that it wasn't necessary. I usually hid behind the curtain in the back room when customers came in, because more often than not, it was someone looking to reclaim something that belonged to them, or someone who wanted Rumplestiltskin for magical purposes. Still a deal-maker. Always for a price.

After I collected lunch from Granny's, we would eat together, and then I would leave him alone to do his work, and I went for a long walk into the forest. I'd found a clearing not far from the wishing well, and I loved to sit there and talk to my imaginary Rumple.

I started to experiment with my magic, the fire, and I found it took a lot of emotion to bring it forth.

One time, imaginary Rumple made me very angry, and frightened, and I accidentally scorched the entire clearing. But luckily, it started to rain before any further damage could be done. I stopped going there after that, for fear of being discovered.

I was too afraid to talk to the _real_ Rumplestiltskin about it, because I didn't want to worry him, or anger him. And I knew he needed to find his son and I cared too much to hinder his efforts. I thought the answer to my control issues would be inside one of the spell books I'd been reading. I needed to control the fire because I couldn't risk hurting anyone if I had an episode. It seemed strange, using the word episode. For twenty eight years of my incarceration, a psychotic episode was sometimes the reason I would wake up with bruises in my skin from needles, strapped to the bed, and unable to know or remember how many days had passed, and how many tallies I should etch into the wall. Now an episode, to me, meant something darker and unnatural. It meant fire and scorched earth.

It became a habit of mine late afternoon to visit Ruby at Granny's diner, and we would talk about all the unusual things in this world, and Ruby would introduce me to a new item on the menu I hadn't tried, or even heard of before. She was very kind to me, and always truthful. Rumplestiltskin had told me she was a werewolf, when the full moon shone, but I didn't care. She wasn't the first beast I'd grown to care about. We never discussed it, and I'm not sure how, but she simply _knew_ that I was aware of the wolf inside. And I think she appreciated more than words could articulate, how compassionate I was about it. She told me I reminded her of Snow White, when they first met. I didn't know whether to be flattered.

There was something precious to her, a red cloak which belonged to her in the Enchanted Forest, but she hadn't been able to locate it. I'd searched every nook and cranny of the pawnshop and Rumple's house and I promised her it wasn't there. I think she believed my word over Mr Gold's. She didn't much like Mr Gold, but at the same time, she didn't judge me, at all, for loving him.

I learned from Ruby which of her regular customers were hospital staff. She said she would smell the disinfectant on them, and I tried to commit their clothing and faces to memory, so I would steer clear of them, in case one of them recognised me. Ruby understood, better than anyone. She told me that no creature should be locked away.

One cold evening, when I was finishing a cup of tea I'd shared with Ruby on her break, there was a commotion outside, many voices in rapid succession.

"Terrible news! Terrible news!" a dwarf came charging through the door, and both Ruby and I jumped at the shouting, as five others followed him.

I recognised the dwarf. "Dreamy?"

He glowered at me, as if to reprimand me, until a flicker of recognition crossed his face. "Belle? Belle!"

And he embraced me like an old friend. It was enthusiastic and uncomfortable, but very brief. "I actually go by Grumpy now," and he frowned a little just to prove a point.

"I can see that."

"You were saying," Ruby prompted. "Terrible news?"

"Dark magic, in the woods. We were taking a path back from the mines, near the wishing well, when we found a clearing, black as night, scorched with fire!"

A commotion started then, arguments and accusations, I heard someone blame Regina. The dwarves were looking for Charming, who was acting sheriff. I said a quick goodbye to Ruby and I fled the diner, clutching at my chest as it became hard to breathe. Then I bumped into someone I really hoped to never cross paths with.

"Are you quite alright, dear?" the blonde woman queried, touching my arm gently before she recognised me and her grip tightened. It was the nurse from the asylum. "You!" she hissed.

And I ran. I started towards the shop, but stopped when I saw several people coming towards me, more strangers I didn't know, who could also be nurses or doctors or any of the Evil Queen's servants. I shuddered to think of the black knights who tied me down and dealt lashings of scourges. I could feel the heat building within and all I could think about was getting back to Rumplestiltskin, for only he could protect me, or stop me from hurting others. It was stupid of me, not to tell him, I thought. Cowardly. I should have told him in the first place.

I ran into an alley between buildings, and tried to circle around the block to where I thought the rear entrance of Mr Gold's shop was, but it wasn't there. I got turned around and lost and confused, so I just bolted for the forest edge, hoping to find a safe, isolated place to calm down.

I lost track of where I was, and I ended up crossing a bridge over a pebbled river. I stumbled as I left the road and slid down the rocky embankment towards the water, which bubbled and hissed at my contact. I waded deeper into the icy water, and tried to calm down. It was silent, except for the sound of cars a short distance away. Emotion was the key. I needed to shut it down, shut it out.

After a while, the warmth was gone and all I had was chills from the water rushing over my legs. I tried to move, and began to walk out of the water, but I tripped and fell into the water. After several more failed attempts, I laughed a little that Rumplestiltskin was right about my clumsiness, and I really shouldn't be allowed to use a ladder. I was freezing and my joints ached as I sloshed up the embankment towards the road. I found my way back to the shop, only to find it was locked up, and his car was gone too. So I started to walk towards his house, and I hugged myself as I walked, thinking how much I wanted a hot shower, and how much I really didn't want to explain to Rumplestiltskin why I was coming home after dark, sopping wet.

I barely got halfway when his car pulled up beside me, tyres crunching on the gravel.

"Get in," he commanded through the open window.

"I'm wet," I said with an apologetic shrug.

"What?" he looked me up and down incredulously. "Why?" He always seemed a little more human when he did that.

"Long story," I laughed a little, but he wasn't amused.

"Get in."

"I don't want to wreck the-"

"Belle, get in the bloody car."

And I did, when I was safe inside the car, and my seatbelt was fastened, he turned up the heater and stared me down. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?" he pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing heavily.

"I didn't mean to worry you. I was just talking to Ruby, and a lot of people came into the diner at once. I… panicked. And I ran off. I was just going to take a quick walk… in the woods-"

"At night?!"

"- when I sort of… fell into the river."

He put the vehicle into gear and pulled gently back onto the road, heading home. "Are you hurt?"

"No just really cold," I said softly.

"Well let's get you home then."

* * *

I took a very long, hot shower, until my hands were wrinkled and my cheeks were red. Afterwards, I went downstairs to talk to Rumple, but he had disappeared into his workshop, and the door was shut. I felt a little unwelcome there. The closed door was mocking me, reminding me of a time when I was just a maid to a monster, that I was bound by rules and a shut door meant I should walk the other way.

I could smell food, and I followed the scent into the sitting room, where I found the fire blazing, my red blanket draped over the sofa and a tray with soup and toast awaited me. I ate a little, slowly, and was only half way through when I was overcome with fatigue, more than I'd been since the day I escaped the asylum.

I left the tray in the kitchen, and I headed upstairs to my bedroom, to attempt to sleep in the proper bed. I felt so tired I thought it was possible tonight, even though the room was warm and inviting, which were the two things that made me hate it in the first place.

I was so overcome with weakness I crawled straight into bed, clutching at blankets and struggling to settle in. Before I knew it, sleep took me, and my only thoughts were that I'd forgotten to brush my teeth, and I hoped that Rumple wouldn't be mad at me in the morning.

* * *

I woke early in the morning, and I found that workshop door still closed, dark and forbidding. I dared not touch it. I thought Rumple was still mad at me. I left him a note on the kitchen counter telling him I didn't want to disturb him and I was going to Granny's for breakfast.

When I got there, Granny and Ruby were setting up for the breakfast shift.

"Belle," Ruby greeted me with a bright smile, "You're here early."

"I thought I might try the pancakes," I replied.

"Alright, but the dwarves will be here for breakfast soon," she warned. "In case you don't want the company."

"I don't… actually mind dwarves," I said, "I spent a few months working at a dwarf tavern back home. It's other people that bother me."

"There's a first," Granny scoffed. "Dwarves aren't the most lovable bunch."

"Well Belle is unique," Ruby defended me. "She has an abundance of love, for those who others would shun."

I felt myself blushing. As promised, six dwarves came in for breakfast, including Grumpy, who had a larger serving of bacon than the others. I asked how their work was going, and barely got much information from them, between mouthfuls of breakfast. I understood they had been reinforcing the entrance to the mines, and were trying to find diamonds for fairy dust. The dwarves weren't for small talk, and before my pancakes had even made it to my table, they had left, heading out the front door, single file, whistling, and leaving a mess behind.

Ruby showed me how to use syrup on the pancakes, and I found they were delicious, but too filling, as I could only stomach about a quarter of what was on my plate. Ruby was shuffling papers when she noticed my lack of appetite. "You don't like them?" she queried.

"I'm not very hungry, sorry," I said, "Had a rough night."

"Everyone is having those," Granny said. "It's like we've all woken from a nightmare just to discover it was real. We just want to go home."

I sympathised, but didn't want to discuss the matter further when no one could comprehend what I'd had to deal with.

"What are those?" I asked Ruby, as she finished with some paper.

"Missing person's posters," she showed me a look at some. "There's some up at the town hall, and the school, but I'm trying to keep a track of them in case there's double-ups. There are so many."

"No one is looking for me, are they?" I wondered. I didn't know if my father were still alive.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't be sure. Do you have family you want to look for? I could help you make a poster?"

"My father," I said. "Although I'm not sure…" I couldn't explain. Explain how I wanted to know if he was still alive, but didn't want to see him. I couldn't explain the hurt he'd caused me. The way he shut me out, cut me off, because I fell in love with someone and he couldn't bear it. I thought parents were supposed to love their children unconditionally, but my father didn't.

"Well, you could find out if he's alive, if he's here," Ruby offered. "That's a start."

I agreed, and we spent the morning making up a poster. Between the two of us, we came up with a sketch that although a little different, still unmistakably looked like Sir Maurice. Ruby had her name on the poster, so if Sir Maurice came forward, he would come to her, instead of me. I had a nervous sweat when I was finished, and by seven-thirty in the morning, the breakfast rush had started and I left abruptly.

I made the walk back home, and by the time I got there, I realised Mr Gold had already left, probably to go open the shop. My note was still on the kitchen bench. I knew he'd read it, as it had moved.

By lunch time, I'd prepared sandwiches at home, enough for two but I didn't expect Mr Gold to be coming home to see me. I was wrong. He was livid when he came through the front door and I barely had time to register his anger when the tray of sandwiches went flying across the room into a wall, bread sticking to the walls and the tray clattering to the floor with such volume it rung in my ears afterwards. I didn't even flinch; I just stared dumbfounded at the scrunched paper he pushed in front of my nose. It was the missing person's poster Ruby and I had made that morning.

"What the hell is this," his voice was disturbingly soft, but his face was screwed with fury and his eyes burned holes in me.

"I was-" I couldn't begin to explain.

"You what?" he snapped. "You thought you'd find your dear old father, the one who shut you out, who cut you off? After everything I've given you, everything I've done for you, and you go behind my back…"

"I wasn't going behind your back, Rumple," I interjected, "I just didn't want to interrupt your work. I didn't want to bother you."

"If you don't want to bother me, then why do you insist on being such a nuisance?"

And there it was. The shot that pierced my flesh. My chest began to tighten, burn, and his stinging words reverberated through my mind over and over. I ran for the front door, pushing past Rumplestiltskin on my way out. I heard him shout at me, but I could barely discern the words, as I ran for the forest, leaving smoking footfalls behind me. I ran for a couple of miles, until I came to my scorched clearing near the Wishing Well. I sat in the clearing and cried until my throat was as rough as chainsaws, and I burned for at least an hour.

I contemplated the ramifications of my situation. Perhaps I was better off in the asylum. Nobody ever got hurt there, just me. I truly was a nuisance and I was beginning to believe I'd never stop being such a thing. I was hindering Rumple, not helping. I resolved then and there, that would cease happening. I would leave him to his own devices; I wouldn't go anywhere or do anything to hinder his work. I would stay home, cook and clean and be the good caretaker I always was.

I was halfway back to the forest road when I bumped into someone, a man who knocked me down.

"Oh, excuse me, Miss," he said politely, and helped me to my feet. He was a short, chubby man with stubble and a bright red knitted hat. "Are you hurt?"

"No, not at all," I said, brushing the dirt from my hands. "You startled me." I imagined my eyes and cheeks were bright red from all the tears.

"Sorry about that. I- was just wondering, if you have any spare change?"

A beggar. Figures. "Um, no I came here for a walk, I have nothing on me, sorry," I stammered, and tried to walk past him but he blocked my path.

"Uh… what about a friend, are you here alone? Does anyone know you're here?" he spoke very quickly and I nervously responded.

"No." I could have mentally kicked myself for giving away more information than was necessary.

"Good, I wanted to be sure."

Then he struck me, and I barely felt anything before I was out cold.

When I woke up, I was in a windowless room that had soil scattered on the floor with boot prints and smelled like flowers. The red-hat man was there again, apparently gentle in nature, but I knew better this time. "Who are you?" I demanded. "What do you want from me?"

"I'm just a man who procures hard to find objects. In this case, the object was you." He grabbed my wrists and tightly bound them with rope, before forcing me to sit in a chair.

"So then who put you up to this?" It was difficult to sound serious and intolerant when my voice was so wavered and cracked, hoarse from all the screaming and crying in the forest. My first thought was Regina, but then someone entered the room, and I suddenly _wished_ it were Regina.

"Belle?" It was my father. He was more tired and had aged a lot since our last unpleasant meeting, but it was him nonetheless. "Oh, how I've missed you Belle."

"Father-" I warned, struggling against the ropes.

"I'm so sorry this is how we had to be reunited. Please understand. I had no choice."

"You kidnapped me," I rasped, struggling further, glaring daggers at him, and I think he sensed my anger because he took a step back.

"After the curse broke, I searched all over for you and discovered The Dark One still had you captive."

"I wasn't his captive, I was his guest. I chose to be there, and if you don't take me back-"

"Are you saying you fell in love with him?"

His question floored me. Of course I had fallen in love with the Dark One. This was the reason I hated my father so. Had he forgotten our last meeting? Because the horrid memories were flooding back to me at rapid speed and I simply couldn't stop myself, although my voice had nearly been expended.

"You know it to be true, father. I loved him, and when he let me go, when I came home to you, you SHUT ME OUT. You cut me off. You were ASHAMED of me, Father. You wouldn't let me past the front gate. You gave me nothing but a bag of provisions and you told me to leave and never come back!"

"Belle, I'm sor-"

"No, you LISTEN TO ME. Do you know what happened, Father? I had to work to be fed, like a peasant. I had to work in bars, and endure the wandering hands of drunkards. And when I had enough, when I decided to go back to the Dark Castle and ask Rumplestiltskin to be taken back, the Evil Queen, Regina, kidnapped me on the road. Do you know what she did to me Father? Cut my bonds and I'll take my clothes off and you can see the scars from where SHE TORTURED ME with scourges and flaying, with fire and chains for YEARS, Father. Then she locked me away, in the asylum for twenty eight years."

My voice was all but gone; I had to whisper the last part. I could no longer see him through my tear blurred vision. "Because you turned me away."

There was a long silence, and I breathed heavily trying to shut it down so I didn't burn the place down.

"Do you still love him?"

I nodded.

"Then I don't have a choice. I'm sorry. Do it."

My head snapped up then, only in time to see the red-hatted man cover my mouth with silver tape and I screamed for all it was worth. I was hurried through the back of the building and bundled into the boot of a car. I tried so hard to shut down my emotions, because I didn't want to hurt anyone.

 _Shut it down, dearie,_ Rumple whispered to me, stroking my hair.

 _I'm trying._

When he pulled me out of the car, we were in a dusty crater, facing the wooden-braced entrance to the mines. I looked at him questioningly.

"If you're a good girl, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just sending you on a little ride under the town line. Once you cross, you'll forget who you were in the other realm and who you loved."

" _I imagine,"_ I remembered what Rumple told me. _"That you would become afflicted with amnesia. You would have no idea who you were, at all. Your mind would be a completely blank slate."_

I kicked him in the shins and I made a run for it. I didn't get very far, as I stumbled on the loose rock at the edge of the crater and he caught me. He had a cold, blank indifference in his eyes as he punched me, once, twice in the face. I moved to kick him again, and the third punch I screamed behind my taped lips, and I heard my jaw crunch and a sharp unrelenting pain spread throughout my face and neck.

I cried and wailed for what little it helped, and I refused to move when he went to pull me towards the mine entrance. He dragged me by my tied wrists the whole way in, but the pain from my legs and hands were barely anything to my broken jaw.

He picked me up and dumped me into a wooden cart. He cut my ropes so that he could shackle my hands and chain me to the cart, so I couldn't jump out and escape my fate. Then he pushed the cart, and it began its journey down the tracks.

I tried to summon the fire then, to bring it forth, but I simply didn't have the strength. I stared at the oncoming darkness as the cart quickened its pace, and I closed my eyes, hoping I wouldn't have to be awake when my memories were stripped away from me. I didn't open my eyes again.


End file.
